


Sports Appreciation

by Rosebudwhite



Series: Appreciating [1]
Category: Actor RPF, Chris Evans - Fandom, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/M, One Shot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 01:16:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1839103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosebudwhite/pseuds/Rosebudwhite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Grace finds herself alone on a girls' night, will the stranger at the bar provide some entertainment?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sports Appreciation

Friday nights were always such a disappointment, until now.  She knew from the moment she saw him she was going to try to fuck him.  Tall, dark, broad, and handsome, he was a walking cliché right out of a steamy, erotic romance novel.  Grace's mouth went dry.  He paused in the doorway to the club, scanned the crowded floor that was full of singles looking to hook up or just dance, and headed straight to the bar.  Grace immediately looked from one end of the bar to the other, could he be meeting someone here?  A couple of busty blondes lounged at one end, but he didn't even glance in their direction.

"Earth to Grace," Abigail's voice came to her as if from a mile away.  Grace started and looked at her friend.

"Sorry," she said, feeling slightly flustered.  She kept sight of the man over Abigail’s shoulder.

"Are you sure you're okay with me skipping out on you like this?”  Abigail gave Grace a worried look.

"Oh, don't worry about me," Grace assured her housemate, and made a shooing motion with her hands.  "Peter needs you.  Go!"

Abigail grabbed her bag and pushed through the crowd to the door off to rescue her silly boyfriend from his own drunken escapades, but Grace's mind was already back on the handsome stranger at the bar.

"Well, here goes," she threw back the last of her glass of merlot and abandoned her table.

The dance floor heaved with sweaty, groping bodies swaying, rubbing, and gyrating, but she ignored the pulling hands and slithered through the crowd.  She was relieved when she reached the bar and the stranger was still sitting there perched on the stool, a scotch neat on a coaster in front of him and still alone.  She ordered another drink and leaned casually against the bar, knowing she looked a sight most men would appreciate.  For the first time, she was glad she had listened to Abigail’s advice on dressing up for the girl’s night, rather than resorting to her staple black trousers and sensible heels.  She felt the sex kitten, she hoped she looked, in the red Audrey dress and stilettos that added a full three inches to her already 5’8 height, making her legs go on for a mile below the netted skirt.

She felt his eyes on her and when her drink arrived, the stranger tossed the bartender some notes.  "May I?"  His voice was smooth and deep, yet a playful smirk accompanied his words.

"Thank you," she murmured, and smiled before sipping her wine.  She glanced at him and found herself paralyzed by his blue eyes.  Her breath came short.  She had never felt such instant attraction to a man, so potent she felt herself go wet.  Grace prayed she was not blushing in the shock at her own body’s response, but knew it was futile due to the heat growing on her chest.

"Hi," she said, "I'm Grace.”  And because she had never gone up to a guy before with the intention of taking him home, she stuck out her hand, feeling incredibly giddy and awkward all at the same time.

"Chris" he replied.  Damn him, he seemed so calm and unflustered as his firm, warm hand enveloped hers.  Without warning, his grip tightened on hers and she was pulled closer until she felt her breasts pressing against his broad chest; and just in time as a group from the dancefloor crowded around them at the already full bar calling out for more drinks and completely oblivious to who they might run over in the process.

"Sorry," he said, but he did not push her away.  Grace was incredibly aware of how short the distance was now separating them; his mouth was only inches from hers, his breath was refreshingly minty mixed with Glenmorangie.  His hand still held hers, and his other hand rested firmly on the small of her back, securely trapping her body against his.

Chris grinned as his eyes scanned over her hair, face, neck, and then lower.  Grace followed the direction of his gaze down.  The hard, twin points of her nipples peaked through the material of her dress, brushing against him.  She flushed, not with embarrassment, as she thought she should, but with the knowledge that Chris was probably as aware of her state of arousal as she was.

Grace's heart was beating rapidly.  What the hell, she thought, just do it.  "So," her voice sounded husky to her own ears.  "You want get out of here?”  She held her breath.

That sexy grin did not waver.  "No," Chris replied.  "I think I'd like to stay right here for now."

Disappointment and acute embarrassment warred for supremacy.  Grace started to pull away but found herself still trapped by the hand on her back.  His fingers flexed and his hand dipped lower to cup her bottom, squeezing gently and pulling her even closer until she was nestled firmly between his legs.  Her eyes widened in surprise.

His other hand released hers, and he reached up to traced his fingers against Grace's slightly parted lips before dropping, brushing slightly against the edge of her breast until it rested on her hip, briefly, and then lower and lower it caressed its way down to the hem of her dress, several inches above her knee.

Then, unbelievably, it started up her leg again, this time dipping beneath the dress along the inside of her thigh.  She should pull away, Grace knew.  This was crazy; letting a total stranger do these things, touch her like this where anyone could see.  She should pull away.  Instead, she shifted so that she was standing with her legs parted slightly.

Chris took his time, lazily tracing the pads of his fingers along her smooth inner thigh, stroking the soft skin, sending delicate shivers up her spine; and when his palm cupped her mound through her knickers, Grace suppressed a moan of anticipation.

Now, all thoughts of being seen fled, to be replaced only by the anticipation.  Chris pulled the delicate fabric to the side and dipped one warm finger inside her wet pussy.  A soft, desperate groan escaped from between Grace's parted lips when he added a second finger to the first and started to thrust in an out, slowly at first but with an increasing rhythm that set her knees weak.

From the haze of pleasure, Grace heard Chris's smooth drawl.  "Did you catch the Celtics game last weekend?"

Grace blinked at him, struggling to form a coherent thought.  "You're fucking me with your hand and you want to talk about sports?”  She asked breathlessly.

Chris shifted his thumb until it rubbed her swollen clit, even as his fingers continued to delve eagerly into her wet, pussy.  "If we're not talking, don't you think the bartender might start to wonder what we're doing?" he grinned.

The pressure was building inside her, rising higher and higher until she teetered on the edge of the precipice.  She did not care who saw them.  Grace struggled to respond.  "No," she finally managed.  "I didn't catch the game.  Who...?"

"They played the Lakers.  The Celtics won.”  Chris shifted again.  As far in as he could go, he curled his finger inward, touching her with intense sensitivity.  It was all she needed to fling her over the edge, sending waves of pleasure from her orgasm vibrating through her body.

Chris's gaze held her own as she fought to hold back the guttural scream that clogged the back of her throat until the last of the shockwaves subsided.  He let her panties snap back in place, smoothed the line of her skirt, and reached for his drink.  He knocked back the last of it with one swig.

Chris stood and Grace noticed his arousal pressing hard against the fly of his suit trousers.  She grinned.  "So, if basketball is what you discuss at the bar.  What do you talk about when you take someone home?"

"Hockey.”  Chris's answering grin was all she need.

Grace grabbed her purse and followed Chris from the bar.  I could get to love sports, she thought.


End file.
